


Three times the love.

by varenoea2



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Friendship/Love, Gangbang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-30 00:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/varenoea2/pseuds/varenoea2
Summary: Micky nods. How are you supposed to say no? This is not fair. But again – it’s what he wanted. And then Pete will fuck him… and then Davy… and then Mike…





	1. Night encounters

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own or know the "Monkees" (the TV characters or their real-life counterparts). This is a piece of fan fiction which I made up, and I'm sure that the scenes described never happened in real life. I make no financial profit with this text, and it was written and supplied on the internet purely for non-commercial purposes and fun.

Mike wakes up in the middle of the night when Mickey crawls into his bed.

That’s not unusual, as such. This happens now and then, when Mickey is horny. He gets vocal when he’s horny. And very affectionate. Sometimes Mike comes into Mickey’s bed, but then he’s always solemn. One doesn't like to talk about things just because one likes to _do_ them, you know.

Anyway, Mickey is drunk. Very drunk.

“’ello Mike!” A warm body sprawls over Mike’s.

“I was sleeping.” Mike struggles out from under Mickey. Mickey seems to be all arms and legs, and he clings to Mike like an octopus. “But… since you’re here…” 

“Hmmm?” 

Mickey’s got a boner. And right now, it’s digging into Mike’s kidney. “Since you’re here, what are you up for?”

“Uhhh, anything.” Mickey chuckles. Then his long, slim hand comes up, slides around Mike’s jaw and pulls Mike in for a slow, sloppy kiss.

Mike runs his hands down Mickey’s side, feeling ribs under the other guy’s shirt.

All the old folks who think young long-haired men are homosexuals… it’s funny, isn’t it? Do the Beatles crawl into each other’s beds for a bit of relief? Mike wonders. Does John jerk off Paul when they can’t get a girl? But that’s nonsense, the Beatles can always get girls. They’re famous. Plus, who needs John and Paul when you’ve got Mickey in bed with you. 

Affectionate. Even more affectionate when he’s drunk. And boy, is he drunk.

They’re stuck together like two pieces of chewing-gum. Mike fumbles in the dark to get Mickey out of his jeans. Now they’re rubbing cocks together through underpants and pyjama pants. 

“Mike”, drawls Mickey, “you wanna… you wanna fuck me?”

“Why, yeah. Yeah, I do”, says Mike and runs a hand through Micky’s hair.

“Ex…cellent. Then fuck me, Mike.” Here comes that chuckle again.

“No.”

Mickey sits up on his elbows. “Yeah. Come on, babe.”

“No. You’re drunk.”

“Yeah! I can get drunk. I’m my ow… own man!”

“Yeah, but your own man told me when he was sober that his butt is no-man’s land.”

“Come oooon!”

“No.”

Mickey worms his lanky body alongside Mike’s and whispers into Mike’s ear. Waves of second-hand whiskey wash over Mike’s face. “I really wanna get touched down there”, he rasps. And he has his hand inside Mike’s trousers, on Mike’s cock. Oh God, this is unfair. The jerking and that voice and those words! Mike squeezes his eyelids together.

“See, Mickey, you’re drunk. And if I fuck drunk Mickey, sober Mickey’s going to kill me.”

“’m not drunk. I know what I like”, says Mickey and sticks his tongue into Mike’s ear, but just in the right kind of way.

Mike decides to go about it logically. “Well, how many times have you been fucked?”

“Never.”

“See. Sober Mickey wouldn’t do this. So I’m not fucking you.”

But what’s the use arguing logically when someone’s drunk? 

“I gotta get fucked, Mike, I gotta. I’m so… so ready. You know, like a pear? One moment they’re not good to eat, then…” Mickey collects his thoughts, burps slightly and continues: “One moment they’re hard, then they’re just right, and in the next moment, bam, they go squishy. I’m going squishy, Mike, I’m so ready!”

“That was very articulate for a drunken man.”

“Thank you, babe.”

“I’m still not fucking you”, says Mike and tries very hard not to think about how good it would feel. Tight and hot and slippery… he’s done it with the other guys, once or twice, or maybe more, and he’d love to do it with his roommate. But no.

Mickey, in response to the rejection, starts to rut against Mike’s hip. “Come on. Please! Please, Mike, please, I won’t get mad. You gotta touch me down there, please.”  
Mike is not made out of stone. Of course he softens up a little. “See”, he mumbles, “maybe I can… I dunno… tickle your taint or something while I get you off.”

“Mhm!” Mickey squeezes up against Mike even harder in encouragement. Mike pushes him on his back and manouvers him out of his underpants with considerable effort. 

_He’s so drunk he can’t take off his own pants_ , thinks Mike. _Sooo ready, my foot!_

He lies down between Mickey’s legs, puts his cheek on Mickey’s flat stomach and one hand on Mickey’s cock. He jerks his friend, like he’s done many times before, and Mickey mewls and loves it and rubs Mike’s scalp through his hair.

But the thought of penetration, actual, real penetration, won’t leave Mike’s brain. How nice it would be if he could just slide up, get his hips between Mickey’s thighs and slip inside. Mickey would love it. With a dark pang in the pit of his stomach, Mike thinks that maybe Mickey wouldn’t even remember the next day…

 _How can you even think that_ , Mike tells Mike. _No way. He’s your friend._

But Mike runs a finger up the inside of Mickey’s thigh, until his thighs meet. Fumbling in complete darkness, Mike gently runs his fingers over the skin down there. You have to be careful in these matters. You don’t want to cause any damage, and you particularly don’t want to jab a finger into a testicle, because that would be the end of this sex session… 

Mickey starts to thrust his hips. “Mike… please…”

Apparently Mike is in the right place. “Shh. I’m taking care of you.”

“Please. Please.”

Mike feels puckered skin under his fingers. He must be pretty close. So he just keeps tickling and stroking gently with his fingertips. Mickey, meanwhile, is going wild. He begs, cries, and asks to have his cherry popped in at least four different languages and accents. One of them is apparently his Groucho Marx impersonation. 

And all this begging is not lost on Mike. In his mind, he’s fucking Mickey’s virgin brains out. Mickey’s groaning and mewling contributes a lot to that fantasy. Mike comes against Mickey’s knee – he never knew how delicious _that_ could feel – and Mickey follows only five seconds later.

They kiss, sloppily, and stick together for a few minutes. Then, Mike switches on the light and gets a paper towel. By the time he has cleaned Mickey’s knee and his own hand and shoulder, Mickey is fast asleep, sprawled all over Mike’s bed.

Oh well. You’ve got to adapt. So Mike goes over to Mickey’s bed and rolls up there for a peaceful night’s sleep.


	2. Head... ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after, Mickey realizes that his big mouth almost got him into hot water. But maybe hot water is alright - under the right circumstances...

Mike wakes up first. He stares out of the window for a while, his arm behind his head. The sky is grey and the sun is only starting to creep up over the Californian horizon. Finally, the bedsheets in his own bed (his real bed, not the one he’s currently in) start to rustle.

“Mike?”

In the cold light of morning, Mickey looks a mess. The bags under his eyes are even deeper than usual. He looks down and states: “I’m in your bed.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it. It’s happened before, it’ll probably happen again.”

“And I’m not wearing pants”, says Mickey thoughtfully. 

“Yeah, so what’s new? Good morning, by the way.” Mike sits up too and smiles.

“But…”, says Mickey and gnaws his lip. He scratches his head. Shifts and knits his brow. “Mike”, he says finally. “Did I… did I ask you to fuck me last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Thought I did. I kinda remember.” Mickey’s dark eyes stare right into Mike’s. His voice sounds thin and small. “And did you?”

Mike shakes his head. “Nah.”

Mike glares at him like a deer in the headlight. _Don’t lie to me now. Don’t you do that._

Heat starts to pool in the pit of Mike’s stomach when he realizes how important it was that he didn’t fuck Mickey.

“I didn’t fuck you”, he repeats. “’course I didn’t.” He gets out of bed, sits beside Mickey and ruffles his hair. “See, I know that you’re not up for it. You told me, remember?” 

Mickey is still not reassured. He shifts uncomfortably.

Mike rolls his eyes. “Look, babe, if I had, you’d know. Trust me. ‘specially after your first time.”

Mickey’s tense back muscles start to relax under Mike’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Hey.” Mike kisses Mickey on the bridge of his nose. “You’re my friend, and I love you. I’ll never let your drunk stupid twin muck things up, okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Mickey smiles. “You wanna get in? It’s warmer in here.”

Mike gets under the cover with Mickey. He takes a leftover stub of a joint from his top drawer, lights it and passes it to and fro with his bandmate. Friend. Occasional lover.

The bed narrow, but they’re comfortable.

“See, Mike”, Mickey says after a while. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Getting fucked, I mean. Just not… you know, not drunk. Like last night.”

“You said you weren’t up for it.”

“That was in May.”

“So… you _are_ feeling like an over-ripe squishy pear after all”, Mike concludes.

“What?!”

“You told me last night.”

“Maybe. Maybe I do feel like a squishy pear.” Mickey takes a deep breath through the blunt and gives it back to Mike. “But the thing is… you can’t do that with just anybody.”

“No, you can’t.”

“You need someone special.”

“I see.” Is that a pang of jealousy? Rejection? At least, Mike thinks, Mickey should acknowledge that he wouldn’t crawl into just _anybody’s_ bed at night. 

“And you and Davy and Pete… I mean, I love you guys. You’re my friends, and I love you. But I’m not _in_ love.”

 _Please fuck me, Mike… please… I’m sooo ready… oh yeah, well, I love you, man, but not enough to let you put it in my butt. My butt’s for someone really special._

Mike tries very hard not to sound bitter. “Well, you’ll just have to go on waiting then, and hope the fruit flies don’t get to you before Prince Charming does.”

Mickey isn’t listening. “I just don’t think that I love either of you enough.”

“It’s a pity then that we can’t all fuck you at the same time. Maybe three times the love is enough.”

Mickey perks up. “Wait. What?” There’s a glitter in his eye. Oh dear. Mickey is up to something.

“Forget I said that”, mopes Mike. “First of all, there’s no way – even if you were that stretchy, and you’re not, urgh! – there’s no way we could all, you know, get in position. Not at the same time.”

“No, not at the same time.” Mickey lifts a long index finger. “But one by one?”

_Bam._

As if Mike’s morning wood wasn’t bad enough! 

Oh well, now he’s got mental images that will keep him warm in long winter nights.

“You mean”, inquires Mike carefully and stubs the blunt out in the ashtray, “you can take three dicks in a row on your first time?”

“Hey, you never know until you’ve tried. How many people do you know who’ve tried it?”

“Nobody.”

“See, that’s a zero percent failure rate.” Flawless Mickey logic. “If I could share it with all of you, that would be special.” Mickey leans in and kisses Mike gently on the lips. “I love you guys. And I don’t like any of you more than the others, but with all three of you? That’d be groovy.”

Mike suddenly feels the love between them again, thick and sweet as honey. “Yeah, groovy”, he admits without sarcasm. “But who gets to go first?”

“The guy with the smallest dick, of course”, grins Mickey. 

“Oh. Not me, then!”

“Don’t worry. Pete goes first.”

“Is he smaller than Davy?”

“Longer but thinner.”

“True.”

“You think they’ll be up for it?”

Mike scratches his head. “Dunno. Maybe it’s a bit too kinky for them.”

 

“Are you kidding?!” Davy nearly jumps over the backrest of the sofa. “Of course! I’ve never done an orgy!”

Pete agrees. “Sure, that sounds fun! When do we start?”

Mickey, hands on his temples, replies: “Just as soon as I've killed this headache.” And then he toddles back to bed.


	3. Olympic endurance.

Let it never be said that the guys don’t support one another. They have decided to do the deed to Micky this same evening, and Pete and Davy have prepared their room. Shoved their beds together to make it one big playground, and cleaned up the place. 

They have even screwed in a red light bulb instead of the usual one. 

“Looks like a whorehouse”, says Micky a little skeptically.

“Oh yeah? Could be, I’ve never been to a whorehouse”, Peter replies cheerfully. 

Mike starts to push Micky inside the room from behind. “Well, come on then.”

Davy tugs Micky’s shirt buttons. “You’ll like it. You’ll see.”

“Heh”, goes Micky and stiffens.

“You’re not having second thoughts about this, are you?” asks Mike.

“Me? Hah, of course not. I’m calm as a… WAH!!” 

Peter takes his tongue out of Micky’s ear. “I bought a whole new pot of Vaseline for this”, he purrs. As far as Peter can purr.

“Heh”, says Micky again.

The other three manhandle him to the bed. Davy starts to take off Micky’s shirt, Mike rubs Micky’s crotch through his jeans, and Peter throws him down and kisses him. 

And Mickey begins to understand that three 20-year-old libidos can be a lot to handle.

“Guys”, he whimpers, “guys, just… don’t be too rough on me, okay?”

“Oh, but you don’t have to walk much tomorrow”, says Davy. “You’re the drummer, remember, you can play sitting.”

“But sitting _can_ be a problem”, admits Peter.

Mike is the only one who stays serious. “Hey, relax, Micky. We’re not doing anything you don’t want us to do, okay?”

“Okay…” Off comes the shirt. Davy clamps his mouth over one of Micky’s nipples. Micky squeaks.

“Jumpy”, says Mike , shaking his head, and makes short work of Micky’s zipper. 

Off come the jeans.

“Well, what about you guys?”

“If you’d stop holding on to your briefs for a moment”, says Davy, “you could undress us, too.”

This makes some sense.

Micky somehow manages to get back up on his knees and starts to peel Mike out of his shirt. Meanwhile, there are two pairs of hands stroking his chest and thighs, and he realizes that this may not be so bad after all. He kisses Mike, and Mike kisses back like he wants it. 

Davy is pressed against Micky’s left shoulder blade, Peter against his right one. But then… there’s slurping and moaning, and Micky realizes they’ve started to get busy with each other. 

“Oh Pete…”

“Hmmm….”

Micky pulls Mike’s belt and opens his fly. Why be nervous now? he asks himself. He’s fiddled around with each of them, at some point. But he’s never seen them do things with each other. 

He can only hear their voices behind his back, but it’s hot as hell. What’s Peter doing that makes Davy groan like that?

Mike pulls his mouth away. “Hey, guys, before you fire your guns”, he says over Micky’s shoulder, “don’t forget that this is for _him_. You’ll need at least one shot left for Micky.”

“Don’t worry”, says Davy, “we’re just having starters.”

Micky feels them slide down against his back. Somewhere on the way, their shirts are discarded. 

Mike’s got a hand on Micky’s dick, and the same is true vice versa.

“So how do you want this?” says Mike. “On your back, or fanny in the air?”

Davy looks over his shoulder. “I think we need to see his face”, he says critically.

“Why, have you forgotten what it looks like?”

“Shut up, Peter”, says Davy and sticks his tongue into Peter’s mouth. 

Mike’s trousers are thrown off the bed. A second later, Peter’s shirt lands on top. 

So how does this go? What’ll happen next? Micky has no idea. How much foreplay before the onslaught begins? 

So he just runs his lips down Mike’s belly and takes a few inches of cock in his mouth. 

“Hmmmm… oh, _Micky_!” 

That leaves his rear end pretty high up in the air. Peter makes a few experimental thrusts against the back of Micky’s underpants. 

“Yeah, that seems about right. How’d you like that?”

“Perfect. If you hurt me, I’ll just bite Mike’s dick off.”

“Don’t be so negative. Who says we want to hurt you?” Davy peels Micky off Mike’s dick and turns him on his back to face him. “Trust us. Come on. Besides, you shouldn’t be doing the work. This is your show, babe.”

“Right”, says Mike.

“Right”, says Peter.

And before Micky can say another word, he is on his back again. Davy on the right, Mike on the left, and Peter between his legs. And Peter steals Micky’s underpants in a heartbeat. 

“O… kay”, is all that Micky can say. He’s at their mercy now. And it’s what he wanted. He silently curses his big mouth. Not for the first time. Or the last.

But then, Davy starts to stroke Micky’s cock, and Peter does also, and Mike kisses him again… and it’s not so scary any more. 

He hardly notices when Mike starts to pull his left leg up against his belly… and when Peter’s hand goes sneaking under his butt... and then he jumps.

“Argh!”

“That’s Vaseline. You know Vaseline, right?”

“Of _course_ I know Vaseline, it’s just… that’s a bit sudden, you know. I mean, we’ve hardly met!”

“Yeah, we have”, says Peter cheerfully. “Our eyes met across a room. Through a chandelier.”

Micky wants to say something else, but then he can’t. Davy’s mouth is on his cock. How can you say a word when one of your friends got a finger inside you, and another one is giving you head, and both come as a surprise?

“You okay?” asks Mike tenderly, and Micky breathes in and out and finally nods.

“No malfunction down here”, declares Davy. 

Peter crooks his finger, and Micky’s cock makes a sudden jolt. “I think he’ll make it, Doctor Nesmith”, he says. “There are signs of life.”

“I think we may proceed then”, grins Mike. “Right, babe?”

Micky nods. How are you supposed to say no? This is not fair. But again – it’s what he wanted. And then Pete will fuck him… and then Davy… and then Mike…

The second finger is a stretch. He’s done this before, with himself. But it feels different when someone else is doing it. 

Mike is kissing him again. Davy is pleasuring himself against Micky’s hip. “This is so hot”, he breathes. “So hot.”

And Pete shoves Micky’s other leg up and takes up his Vaseline pot again. Suddenly it’s serious.

“Just… just don’t mess me up, okay?” whimpers Micky. “I’ve got two more ahead of me.”

Davy mumbles reassuring words into his left ear, and Mike into his right. His legs are held up on both sides, and Pete gets in position.

“You’re so hot, you are”, Davy whsipers. “Both of you.”

And Peter boldly goes where no man has gone before. 

That is, he tries. But it’s not that easy. Micky groans and Peter pushes him up against the headboard, but no real progress is made.

“Wha… what am I doing wrong?” asks Micky. He doesn’t want to speak, or to think, but this isn’t working. And this will never work, not in a hundred years.

“Easy”, mumbles Mike. “You don’t do anything. You just breathe.”

“But I am breathing!”

“You breathe out all the tension. Through your butt.” Davy nibbles his ear tenderly. “It’ll take a while. You can chant if you like.”

“Chant??”

“Well then, don’t chant”, says Peter. “Just breathe. Close your eyes and breathe.”

So Micky does. He closes his eyes to the scary faces above him and concentrates on letting loose. And Peter keeps pushing gently, and saying encouraging things. “Yeah, babe, that’s good. You’re getting more loose. I mean, maybe you can’t feel it, but I can. Notice something?”

“No”, says Micky. _Nothing other than a bit of tearing here, and a crack there, and oh, look, now my hole’s burning, but I don’t notice any progress…_

“Keep going”, moans Pete. “I’m almost in.” 

And then he is. 

You can tell the exact moment when it happens, because Micky’s whole body flinches with pain, and he arches his back, cursing like a sailor. 

But nobody’s pitying him. 

Peter is high as a kite, Mike is jerking off, and Davy is just enraptured by the sight of Peter being one inch deep inside Micky. 

“So hot”, whispers Davy again, although he swallows the “t” again, _like he always does, that annoying little fucker_. Micky feels extremely cranky, because he’s the only one in pain and everybody else is loving it. He would love to say a thing or two, but nobody’s ready to listen. 

“Oh no”, says Mike. “The patient is fading.” And now he takes over, sucking Micky’s cock back to full hardness. 

“Hah”, is all Micky can say now. Pain in one place, pleasure in another… what are you supposed to say? You really can’t make up your mind. 

Peter shoves himself in deeper. 

“God, Micky, you’re so tight”, he sighs. 

If he only knew why he gets to fuck Micky before the others… let’s hope he never finds out. 

“You okay?” asks Davy tenderly and ruffles Micky’s hair. 

And although Peter’s invasion still feels a bit too much to bear and Micky is sore, he has to admit: “Yeah, I think so.” 

Peter’s belly suddenly presses against the backs of Micky’s thighs. “There”, Peter groans. “This is it. Full entry.” 

Micky closes his eyes again. It’s getting better. Coming to think of it, he quite likes it. He remembers why he wanted to do it in the first place. 

Mike lets go of Micky’s cock with a wet pop. “How do you feel?” 

Micky smiles shakily. “Kinda… complete.” 

“Yeah? You like it?” beams Peter. 

“Think so.” 

Davy and Mike’s faces meet over Micky’s chest, and they start snogging immediately. Davy loves kissing, doesn’t he? Micky takes his hand off his legs for a moment (why was he holding them? Peter’s holding them anyway), and while Peter starts to slide in and out, he puts his hands around the other guys’ heads and pulls them up to him. 

Sloppy kisses go back and forth between the three of them. But it’s enough to distract Micky in those moments when the sting comes back. And being held by two other guys helps to comfort him, too… 

“Don’t worry”, pants Peter. “I’ll be quick. Can’t last, not with you being so tight.” 

“If you only knew how good you look right now”, mumbles Mike. “Both you and Pete.” 

Heat begins to form in Micky’s body. _No, not now. You’re not coming yet. You’ve got to last until Mike…_

Peter’s thrusts get faster and more frantic. Peter’s cock gets bigger, and harder, and with a deep sigh he grabs Micky’s hips and pulls them all the way up. 

“He’s gonna come inside you”, says Davy cheerfully. “How d’you like that?” 

“Yeah”, breathes Micky, “a lot.” This is hot, very very hot, but his scrape with orgasm is over for now. It was close, but he’s cooled it a little. 

Pete groans loud enough to wake the neighbors, like some dying primordial beast, and digs his fingernails into Micky’s hips again, pulling them up – and then he’s very still. 

His face is one big “O”, and he twitches once, twice, three times… and with a whimper he pulls out. Slowly. It takes way longer than Micky thought it would. Jeez, did he have all of that inside him? It _feels_ longer than it looks. 

Micky falls back into the pillow. 

Pete goes “urgh”, and falls backwards as well. “Wow, that was amazing”, he groans. “That was…” 

“Hm.” The Manchester Marauder takes Pete’s place and smiles down at Micky’s flushed face. “You ready for another one?” 

Micky nods. “Yeah. Let’s do this, while I’m still crazy enough.” 

“This won’t hurt so much”, promises Davy. “You’re loose, and you’re nice and wet. But I want you on your side, is that alright?” And he manhandles Micky onto his right, and takes Micky’s left leg over his shoulder. 

Oh well. Whatever works. 

Mike cuddles up against Micky from behind, one hand on Micky’s cock and one on Davy’s butt cheek. “Be gentle, okay?” he says, serious for a moment. 

“He told me that if I break you, he’s gonna break my maracas”, Davy whispers at Micky, but of course Mike can hear it. “And that’s not a metaphor.” 

“You better listen, he means business”, grins Micky, and he feels his usual bravado comes creeping back. 

The second entry is a lot more pleasant than expected. _Yeah, I can take that,_ thinks Micky. It almost doesn’t hurt. 

Plus, the new angle is very nice. Micky closes his eyes and gives himself over to feelings and sounds. The sound of Peter and Mike kissing over his head. Their hair tickling his shoulder. Davy’s slow thrusts, with nothing between their bodies except Vaseline and Peter’s cum. Davy’s soft moans. 

Thickness is fine, too, Micky realizes. Peter hit him right in the prostate, but Davy is only brushing it, and that’s good when you don’t want to come too quickly… 

Feelings, and sounds, and the colors he sees behind his closed eyelids. He’s getting drunk on love and sex and the special bond between the four of them. No need to see anything. He can feel it all, he’s surrounded by it, and he’s sweating it from every pore. Every “uh”, every gasp. They’re doing this because… it’s love. 

Three times the love? Well, algebra doesn’t begin to cover it. It’s much, much more. 

And just when he’s completely immersed, Davy completely loses it and holds on to Micky’s leg hard enough to bruise it. 

“Oh God, mother, fuck, yes”, he groans and shoots his spoonful of love into his willing victim. Micky opens his eyes, and it’s a good thing he did, because Davy is a sight to behold. Flushed and open-mouthed and so, so pretty in the red light. 

We should do less fumbling in the dark, Micky thinks. We’re all so handsome when we’re randy. 

But there’s not much of a break. Davy gets out of the way, and Mike climbs over Micky’s tense body. 

“As you were”, he says. “On your back, if you don’t mind.” Then he takes a look at the work at hand. “Oh my. You look rough.” 

“Well, I don’t feel rough.” Micky pulls Mike’s hips close to his own. “Fuck me. I want to collect the whole Monkee set.” 

“Every schoolgirl’s dream”, sighs Davy and laughs. 

“Yeah, except there are no schoolgirls dreaming about _us_ , because we’re not the Beatles”, says Peter cheerfully. 

“I mean it”, insists Mike. “I wish we hadn’t put in these red lights. I’m not sure you’re not bleeding…” 

Micky gets up on his elbows. “Mike!” he wheezes. “I need to come. I’m not in pain, okay? Come on in and let me get off. Please.” 

Mike bites his lip and takes another worried look at his friend. But then, suddenly, he lifts Micky’s hips and shoves his knees up almost to his ears. 

“Whoah!” 

“You look good like this”, decides Mike, gets more Vaseline from the special new pot, and rubs it on Micky and on himself. 

Micky whimpers at the touch of these gentle fingers. He has forgotten all about the other two, about his fear, about how worried he was before. “Fuck, Mike, come on, this, you gotta”, he begs. 

“I _think_ ”, says Davy critically, “our patient is delirious.” 

But then Pete pulls him away. 

Mike leans into Micky with so much care, Micky almost wants to cry. He wants to cry anyway, because he’s so filled with love and also so horny and he _needs to cum or else…_

“Uh!” His head slams back when Mike enters him in one long stroke. 

_I’m starting to take it like a pro_ he thinks proudly. 

And then his eyes open in surprise when Mike’s hand takes a firm grip of his cock and starts to jerk and thrust at the same time. Oh dear. 

He doesn’t know what he’s moaning and mumbling any more. He doesn’t even know if his eyes are closed or open. All he knows is that he needs more, it’s so good but it’s not enough, never enough, he needs to come so badly, please, Mike… 

Just as he’s about to swat Mike’s hand away to jerk himself faster, Mike taps his shoulder and points to the right. 

There’s Davy’s lovely face, squeezed against Micky’s shoulder, eyes closed and mouth open, eyebrows scrunched up, and on top of Davy there’s Peter, giving it to him from behind. Davy lies completely still, only his breath is coming ragged. Peter is biting his lip and whimpering. They’re both lost to the world. 

Mike leans forward. “Sweet, aren’t they”, he whispers into Micky’s ear, and his twisted position sends a pang through Micky’s much-abused rear entrance. 

“Just keep fucking me, okay?” he sobs, and Mike gets back on his knees and kisses Micky’s ankles and goes back to work. 

Micky, eyes half-lidded and face burning hot, starts to pet Davy’s hair. He’s taking it well. Peter is laying into him like a determined machine. 

_Boy, I didn’t realize how much he held back when he did it to me…_

Without opening his eyes, Davy creeps up a little closer and starts to devour Micky’s mouth. Desperate, hungry, greedy for tenderness, while he gets none from behind.

Micky can barely kiss. He’s probably just biting Davy’s lips. He needs to come, he gets one hand on his cock – it’s the wrong one, but he makes the right move once, twice, and then he bucks his hips so much it’s incredible that Mike manages to stay inside – and Mike grabs a firmer hold of Micky’s hips and pulls him back into position and slams back into him, and with a jolt of pain and pleasure and who knows what else, Micky comes, finally, all over his belly. 

It knocks the wind right out of him. He might be dying, but he’s not sure. He sure can’t move. 

At least not for a while. When the waves of pleasure turn into small ripples, he feels Mike come inside him – this time he really feels the hot liquid – and he hears Davy curse and groan, and Peter follow quickly afterwards. 

When he opens his eyes, the red light looks a bit profane. They’re all lying in a heap on a soiled bed, and they’re all very dirty. 

“I’ve got to go to the bathroom”, he groans, rolls on his side and somehow sits up. Walking proves difficult, not because he’s aching – boy, he is! – but because his knees are shaking so badly. 

“D’you think we broke him?” asks Pete skeptically. 

“I hope not, we’ll never find another drummer like him”, says Mike. 

Micky has a quick clean-up, and then a look in the mirror. Boy, what a sight! He never knew his hair could be _even_ messier than usual, but here he is. His lips are swollen, his skin is red and his eyes are barely half-open. 

Sleep. He needs to sleep. 

So he comes back to the bed, where the others have already settled in. 

“Hop in”, says Davy. “You look like you need some TLC.” 

“And we’ve got something else for you”, says Pete. “We knew you’d make it. Get screwed by all three of us, I mean. So we made you this.” From his nightstand, he pulls a shiny object on a string. 

“A cardboard medal?” asks Micky helplessly and turns it in the light. 

“Hey, it’s got aluminum foil all over it, so it’s practically gold”, says Mike. 

_“For Olympic endurance_ ”, Micky reads, and warmth floods his heart again. “You guys are the best. You’re nuts, but you’re the best. I love all of you, you know.” 

There are no cheesy _we love you too_ s, but what for? Of course they do. Micky knows it when he likes down between them, and they all cuddle up like a bunch of puppies. 

And tomorrow, they’ll still be broke and out of work, but how much do you really need? 


End file.
